


Private Men

by syredronning



Category: Star Trek (2009)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-09-08
Updated: 2010-09-08
Packaged: 2017-10-11 14:43:12
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 13,033
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/113547
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/syredronning/pseuds/syredronning
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>There's a fine difference between things being swept under the carpet and things left unsaid.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Private Men

**Author's Note:**

> Warning: S/Mc non-con.  
> Long prompt was long at: http://community.livejournal.com/st_xi_kink/4532.html?thread=10989236#t10989236 and I just noticed that I didn't meet it 100%. Sorry, anon! Also, it's written in old school style, blame me :)  
> Many thanks to Emme for the beta! All remaining errors and weaknesses are mine.

'It will be fine, Bones,' Jim had said. 'You'll get your renewed flight license and the two of you will have some time to talk to each other,' Jim had said.

'Great, that's just great,' McCoy thought as he clamped his hands around the armrests of the shuttle's pilot seat, staring at the blinking controls. Bad enough that all officers of the Enterprise were forced to renew their piloting license twice a year by absolving a small theoretic test, a flight of two hours and a manual landing on a planet or in a shuttle bay. It gave McCoy the creeps every time he had to do it.

But doing so with Spock, of all people, looking over his shoulders was just about killing him.

If he got back alive, he'd wring Jim's neck personally and with pleasure for doing this to him.

He understood Jim's reasoning; it bothered the captain that two of the three leading officers were only colleagues, lacking the fine-tuned friendship level that branded really marvelous teams. Spock and he got along, but nothing more; they acknowledged each other on a professional level, could live with Jim's demand for breakfast together every morning (if not tied up by duties), and he managed not to bitch too often about Spock's logical ice-cold advice (yes, he was proud of his restraint).

But other than that, McCoy was happy to deal with his own staff in med bay and keep the crew and their regularly beaten-up captain alive and functioning. Having Spock now only half a meter away from him, eyeing his every action with the air of an academy teacher checking out a particularly stupid student was undoing him, and he'd harped at the Vulcan over the course of the last hours more than in the last months in addition.

"We are close to the atmosphere of the planet. You should -"

"Jeeze Spock, I know it's time to initiate the landing sequence." McCoy snapped and moved forward on the seat, pressing the appropriate buttons.

The Vulcan shed him a look that spoke of disapproval. Remarkable how much emotion this guy could transmit with his stony face once you learned to interpret the details. "One manual landing is mandatory for renewing the license."

"I'll do that on the way back." McCoy said. He knew that in principle landing in a shuttle bay was a lot more difficult than landing on a planet, but on the Enterprise he had Scotty who'd already backed him last time with some slight tractor adjustments when the shuttle had been a little close to the hangar sides. Swearing under his breath, he set the landing point and controlled the computed trajectory. The planet was class M, with a median temperature of twenty degrees Celsius and no major life forms. Their mission was to meet with the local research team: Spock would collect their results and reports, and McCoy would perform their required health checks. It would've been a lot easier to just beam them over and check them on the Enterprise. The biobeds are much better equipped for diagnosis than McCoy's mobile medical set. But that would've made this shuttle trip unnecessary, and it was the captain's prerogative to decide another course of action.

He would get Jim's ass for this. For the next four weeks.

"Get the fuck away from my console." McCoy said darkly as he noticed Spock was about to interfere with his settings.

"As you may have noticed doctor, there is a lightening storm on your processed course."

"It's the computer's proposed course. Shouldn't you approve of something another machine puts out?" McCoy stated, eyeing the data with a frown. Not that he remembered all that much about the physics of planetary atmospheres, but the shuttle's computer was able to calculate the severity of storms from the differences in atmospheric pressure - as long as it didn't give a warning, the way should be safe.

A bit of sweat was breaking on the back of his neck, and he absent-mindedly rubbed the area with his left hand while staring on the read-outs. Yeah, everything looked fine from his point of view.

"Any reason why the computer should be wrong?"

Spock's features showed a ghost of a frown. "The data is conclusive for a safe journey. However, there are some irregularities in the gathered information."

McCoy checked everything: temperature, moistness, air pressure, cloud speed - all fifteen data points were accounted for. "Every fucking value is in the green range. What's that about? You've got a hunch or something?" He loved pushing Spock to show some human emotion once in a while; having seen Spock throttle Jim half to death had made it clear to him that the Vulcan harbored some damn unfinished business regarding emotional control, and in his opinion it would be a lot safer if Spock let it out just one bit at a time. But even with Uhura he never really did, as she'd told the doctor confidentially.

"Some gut feeling that something just ain't right? Is something itching in your pointed ears?" McCoy looked at Spock, eyebrow raised in challenge. If it had been Jim, McCoy would already have changed course, because Jim's hunches were gold. But Spock would've to lay down hard proof to get him press another button, and not just because McCoy only waited for him to rely on emotion - Spock himself would see anything else as failure.

"My ears do not itch." Spock replied stiffly.

They sat in silence while the shuttle drew closer to the storm. Now that McCoy could see the motion of the gathering, dark clouds and the flashes within them with his own eyes, he got a gut feeling of trouble himself. The data looked still fine - but the reality didn't, and he was suddenly very sure that something was wrong with these readings. He pushed some buttons, double-checked the readings and didn't mind when Spock joined in, doing some complicated calculations of which McCoy understood next to nothing.

"The sensors can't be right," McCoy stated. "This isn't just a little storm - it's more like a hurricane."

"There were no hurricanes reported for the planet," Spock said. "You should know that from the mission briefing."

"Oh fuck off, man," McCoy replied seriously annoyed. "You've got eyes as good as mine, or possibly better. And I'll set another course now."

Being already close to the storm and not having the energy reserve to boost the shuttle, it was hard to find a trajectory that would not hit its center. Suddenly, Spock's hand was on his, stopping him from laying in a new course.

"The data clearly shows that this storm will not endanger the shuttle."

"The data's wrong, Spock. It's really the wrong moment for you getting all contradictory. Your hunch was right. I was wrong. Let's do something." McCoy shook off Spock's hand with a glare. Damn, his shirt was soaked in sweat by now.

"There are no indications off sensor failures. All calibration subroutines were performed perfectly."

"Dammit -"

Whatever curse McCoy would've latched on his colleague, it died when with a thunder that made his ears almost rupture the shuttle was hit by lightening - 'shouldn't it be protected against that?' - and kicked off course. McCoy was thrown out of his chair and was so disoriented for a moment that he just lay there on the ground, trying to gather his wits. Then he pulled himself up and back into the seat.

"Everything alright, Spock?" he called over to the Vulcan, the noise of the alert and the whine of the engine almost drowning his voice. There was no reply from the slack figure on the ground next to the co-pilot seat, but he had no time to play doctor, now that the shuttle's automatic controls were offline and they were rocking and reeling down through the storm towards the planet's surface. If he didn't manage to get some control over the course within the next few minutes, they'd fall like a stone and be done. And they wouldn't look pretty, McCoy knew from experience.

In the end it was thinking of Jim, drawing from his memories of Jim's particular inner strength and belief that they'd make it alive, that made McCoy succeed with his endeavor. They were still too fast and it would be a rough landing, but the warnings had gone from red to yellow, from "you'll look like hacked meat" to "you'll probably get through surgery".

"Spock!" McCoy called again, but still no reaction. "And I've always thought you've got a skull made of iron," he murmured. It wasn't a good moment to learn that Vulcans could get knocked out just like any other humanoid. Fingers on the controls, adjusting every single of them by hand, he had no time to wipe the sweat from his brows. The ground was now rapidly drawing closer, and he took a deep breath.

"Well, Spock, I know you don't believe in luck, but we really could use some. So let's hope and pray." And then he didn't think of anything but holding the nose of the crashing shuttle up and steady while it was sliding over sandy ground, throwing sparks, until the ride ended in a bunch of trees. And as he was thrown against the front window, his last thought was 'I'm sorry, Jim'.

*

When McCoy woke up, he found himself lying on green, rather soft grass. Above him, something like a bird chirped; other than that, all was silent. Too silent. He slightly shook his head, as if he could get rid of his disorientation this way.

'Stupid idea', he thought as a blinding pain flashed through his head. It got down to a bearable level once he resigned himself to moving very slowly (and once the contents of his stomach found a convenient place under a close-by bush). But all in all, he was remarkably unhurt and in one piece.

Unlike the shuttle that had smashed against two large trees - and he'd been damn lucky that he'd been thrown out right between them, otherwise the rescue team could've scraped a pile of smashed bones from a tree bark.

Carefully he walked around it. The door didn't open right away, of course, and he pulled at it, drawing strength from muttering profanities until it finally gave in and fell out, hitting his knee. With a groan he sank to the ground, breathing hard.

'Get up, doctor. You've got a job to do.'

"Spock?" he tried to call, but his throat was dry and hurting and his voice didn't carry at all. He crawled into the shuttle, all sharp debris and gloomy shadows of destruction between glaring stripes of sunlight where the hull was broken. "Goddammit, Spock, answer me!" His hands met the medikit and the transportable medical diagnosis next to.

'Rule number one: self-preservation first,' McCoy thought and gave himself a shot of pain reliever. Because an incapacitated doctor wouldn't be able to help anyone else. Then he took a gulp of water before he proceeded to the front where he finally found Spock. The Vulcan was deadly, greenly pale, his heart-beat unnaturally slow and his breathing barely audible. There was a wound on his head but not too much blood. With shaking hands, McCoy waved the tricorder over Spock to get a first impression.

The data looked good, almost too good. But when he squinted at the details, he saw how the numbers were a little off. 'Oh fuck,' he thought as he compared it to an older scan of the Vulcan. This looked like some kind of nerve damage, and not as from the fall - more like done by electricity. Though why the flash should only have gone through Spock and not McCoy was something of a miracle - which the Vulcan might possibly explain at some other time. For now, he needed to stabilize the man. Choosing from his small collection of drugs, he administered a pain killer first. Then he selected a tranquilizer from the box. No telling how a nerve-damaged Vulcan would act, he thought as he readied the hypo - a second later his hand was suspended mid-air, as Spock looked at him wide-eyed.

"No!"

"Everything's okay, Spock," McCoy said in his best doctor's voice. "Just something to reduce the pain, okay?" He talked to him a little more, but when Spock's brutal grip didn't loosen one bit, McCoy finally lost it. "Dammit Spock, this hurts. Let my arm go!"

With one sharp movement Spock pulled him down on his arm, making McCoy gasp in pain. "You will never again speak to me like this," the Vulcan snarled, then pushed him away with just as much verve. McCoy was thrown against one smashed seat, the armrest knocking the air out of his lungs.

"Okay, Spock, okay," he muttered, trying to calm down himself and the obviously delirious Vulcan. Spock drew himself up from the floor, and McCoy could see that he limped but it didn't stop the man from stepping in front of him and hauling him up on his uniform shirt.

"No, doctor, this is not okay," Spock stated, murder in his eyes. "Okay is a very vague definition that nevertheless completely fails to describe this situation."

This wasn't the open rage he'd shown with Jim on the bridge that day, but it was rage nevertheless.

"Okay - I mean, yes, you're right, it's not okay, we're not okay, I'm sorry for getting on your nerves but I hate shuttle flights and it's not as if Jim didn't know that. I'm sorry." McCoy blathered along, trying to buy some time until he could maybe get a grip on the hypo not far from him and apply it, or until Spock would have a reasonable moment or maybe just break down again unconsciously.

None of those outcomes, however, turned to reality as Spock threw him into the deformed shuttle wall. With a groan McCoy slammed to the floor, seeing stars for a moment.

Spock dragged him up again. "No more insults. No more challenges." Every statement was accentuated by a punch in his stomach.

"No more you!"

"Oh, great, finally acting on your real feelings?" McCoy couldn't help snarling. He might go down, but not without resistance.

He had expected hands around his throat, but got a fist in his face instead, feeling his nose break under the impact. Pain washed over him, costing some seconds of his memory because next thing he knew Spock picked him up from the floor, now indeed his hands around McCoy's throat.

"Always insulting. Always ridiculing."

"And I always knew you were a damn control freak that would lose it some day," McCoy pressed out, fighting for air. "Just like with Jim."

It earned him another blow in his face, he tasted the blood on his tongue from the split lips and where the teeth had cut the flesh of his oral cavity. He expected to be pulled up again for the next slap, but Spock only lifted him to his knees. He groaned as his broken nose was shoved against the Vulcan's groin.

'So now we know what he really wanted to do all the time,' McCoy thought through the haze of pain.

Iron hands clamped his head as Spock rubbed his growing bulge against McCoy's battered face. The erection underneath the fabric slipped against his nose and lips and up his cheeks, again and again, hardening with every move. McCoy prayed this would be enough, but then Spock unlaced one hand from his hair and opened the fly. The erection was large, hard, green, and unceremoniously pushed against McCoy's lips.

McCoy drew away as far as he could. "Fuck you," he muttered.

There was the fist in his face again, and this time he could feel two of his teeth go. Tears started breaking against his will and damn, Spock shouldn't see him cry, but this was biology and didn't the bastard look smug when he pulled him up again, once again shoving his hard dick against McCoy's lips.

McCoy gave in.

Good thing he'd learned how to deep throat with Jim since Spock mouth-fucked him brutally and perseveringly, the inhumanly strong hands on his head holding him in position. Spock came deep in his mouth and held him until his body started shaking from asphyxiation; then he tossed McCoy against the shuttle wall again.

'Dumped like waste,' McCoy thought before he blackened out.

He awoke some unknown time later. His eyes were so swollen he could barely see a thing, and as he moved, he couldn't help groaning, 'goddamn this hurts so much.'

Spock was on him in the wink of an eye, dragging him up.

"Not done yet?" McCoy couldn't help muttering, and he knew it was stupid and it might cost him another tooth or an eye or whatever, but he just had to prove himself he still wasn't broken - not really.

The blow send him whirling into the broken console, and then the iron fingers were back, one around his neck, one at his own pants and yeah, it made sense that Spock would go for that this time. It almost didn't matter. It was surreal enough anyway. Spock took him from behind, shoving his hurting body over broken buttons and sharp metal pieces with every move, lacing those hands into his hair and smashing his face into the console once in a while. McCoy blackened out in between, but when he returned to consciousness, Spock was still upon him, had obviously waited because it wasn't the same fun to fuck dead meat as it was to rape his suffering fellow officer. When the Vulcan finally came, McCoy could feel the hot stream pumping into him, making him feel used and dirty in a way he'd never thought possible, and he blackened out again as Spock pulled out and trashed him back into the wall.

When he woke up the next time, he tried so very hard not to groan, but it was a lost cause. There were hands clamping his shirt again, and when Spock looked into his eyes, what was left and working of them, McCoy shuddered, feeling an overwhelming panic washing over him. But suddenly, the unbelievable happened; Spock's grip loosened, and Spock sagged to the ground and onto his back. For a while, McCoy just sat there and stared with baited breath to see if Spock would get up again, but he didn't. Spock's injuries, whatever they were, had finally caught up and rendered him unconscious.

He considered just staying put and hoping for Spock to die. It seemed like a good idea.

'You're a doctor, Leonard. Now get a grip on yourself. Even after all of this, he's still your patient.'

He finally pulled himself together and crouched to the medical diagnosis unit, discarded but still working. With trembling hands, working more from memory than from the little he could see, he set some parameters and scanned Spock. The output took a moment, and he thought of moving to the bottle of water he saw in a small distance, but knew he probably wouldn't make it back. Then the unit signaled the result.

Damn.

*

When Spock woke up, it was into darkness. His body felt boneless, inactive - not under his control.

"It's the tranquilizer," he heard McCoy saying quietly, and he tried turning his head but only his eyes obeyed.

"Sorry, had to," McCoy added. Spock took a moment to stare at his colleague. The man was leaning against the wall and looked terrible - the face battered, the nose crooked in an unnatural angle. There were dark stains all over the rugged shirt and he sat curled, knees drawn up against his chest, arms tightly around them, a typical position for humans in pain.

McCoy was in pain, it radiated off of him, Spock realized. And he remembered…

"I - did this to you."

McCoy brushed his hand over his split lip. "Yeah," he said.

"I beat you and -"

"Yeah." McCoy nodded.

"But - why?"

"You've taken an electric hit that fried the Vulcan equivalent of the amygdala in your brain, the center of your emotional control. That totally set you off. No control at all, and god knows I've gotten on your nerves enough over the last hours to tick you off by snapping even once."

"There is - no excuse." Spock closed his eyes. "Brutality, a loss of control like this - is unworthy of any Vulcan."

"Good thing you're only half Vulcan, this way the statistics won't get spoiled." McCoy suddenly stopped, tilting his head to listen. "You hear? There's some shuttle above us. Rescue will soon be here."

"I will lose everything," Spock whispered. "Let me die."

"Damn if I didn't think about it, but I can't," McCoy said roughly.

"My position -"

"It was an accident. It wasn't your fault."

"I've lost control with the captain already. Now with you."

"Then go get some goddamn therapy to fix your emotional problems. Besides, in both cases you were under extreme pressure and even brain-damaged this time."

"Nyota. She will not accept this."

McCoy nodded, knowing how adamant Uhura was when it came to sexual assaults. "Yeah. If she learned about it. But she won't."

Spock opened his eyes again. "Not learn about it?" he rasped.

"Right. We're not gonna tell. Because if this comes out, you'd lose Uhura, and Jim. He'd never be able to work with you like he does now and probably never get rid of the guilt for sending us out together." 'And he might not be able to deal with that knowledge,' McCoy thought. He'd seen enough couples fall apart over one of the partners being assaulted. Realizing that there are moments where you can't protect your loved ones ticks off a lot of people. No need to make it worse for Jim than it already was due to them being posted together.

"This is illogical," Spock whispered. "And dishonorable for me."

"We crashed. We were hurt. We survived. End of story," McCoy muttered.

Spock looked at the human with the swollen face, all yellow and blue, battered by his hands, who just made him an incredible offer. "I cannot accept this -" Spock started, but McCoy pulled out a hypo.

"It's going to be my story, and you'll be in no state to say something else. So you better comply." Spock gasped as the hypo pressed into his neck, then slipped into drugged sleep.

McCoy sank back with a sigh. 'They better come soon or -' with that thought, he curled on the floor, well away from Spock, and fell asleep.

*

"Doctor McCoy?" Someone gently touched his shoulder. "Can you hear me? I'm Roberts from the expedition. We've been in contact before. We're here for your rescue."

McCoy tried to open his eyes and moaned as the pain hit him full-fledged.

"Don't move," the man said, and a bottle was pressed against McCoy's raw lips. He managed to get a few gulps of water, though most of it ran down his chin and spilled on his chest.

"Anything we should know about your injuries? I've only had some basic medical first aid courses."

"Colleague's got brain damage. Needs to be kept sedated until he can get surgery," McCoy whispered.

"And you?" Roberts asked. "Seems you got a lot more injured in the accident."

McCoy craned his neck a little and experimentally moved his limbs. "I'm in pain but nothing focused. Just give me a shot and keep me horizontal. Take the medical diagnosis unit in the back. Check me when we're out of here."

Despite the pain killer, McCoy was almost blackening out when they moved him around. Horizontal wasn't really possible, as they had neither a stretcher nor room in the small shuttle to carry four scientists and two wounded men, and so McCoy ended sitting with his back against yet another shuttle wall, feeling every broken rib in his chest as he crouched down, breathing hard.

"I'm sorry," the man said. "Should I give you another shot?"

"No, would overdose." McCoy shed a glance at Spock who lay on his back, legs folded due to the lack of space. The Vulcan looked still barely hurt, only his pale face and low breathing showing the sedation.

"What happened?" Roberts asked.

"Got into the storm. Were hit by lightening that killed the shuttle's automatic flight control. Crashed. Thought there never were hurricanes around here." Speaking was a great diversion, McCoy found.

"This is the first one in five years. They are very rare, and unusual due to an ionic atmospheric component native to this planet. Filea, our physicist, was actually very happy to be able to record a lot of new data about this rare phenomenon." McCoy briefly looked at the middle-aged woman Roberts nodded towards.

"It was a great moment for our expedition," she said gently. "But I'm so very sorry you got caught in it."

"Back luck," McCoy murmured. "Shit like that can happen in space." Danger and darkness, so true. He closed his eyes, unable to keep the lids up any longer.

He must have been out of it, because next time he opened them, he was lying in a bed, his chest wrapped in bandages, his face cooler and less hurting. Next to his head, Roberts got up from a chair and placed a gentle hand on his shoulder. Someone must've told him in those first aid lessons that this gesture would relax his patients.

And damn if it didn't work.

"I've taken care of your worst injuries," the man said. "I've cleaned you up and given you some of the shots you'd in your bag, then scanned you." 'Wrong order,' McCoy thought, but this way most evidence should be destroyed. Nothing to connect his injuries to Spock.

"The Vulcan is still sedated as you ordered and we've heard from the Enterprise. They'll be here in about three hours to pick you up. Your captain was pretty relieved to hear you both survived."

"He better is," McCoy muttered and sank back into sleep.

*

Next time he grew aware of his surroundings, it was to the sweet low current of noise in his own med bay. He felt like he was embedded in cotton, warm and relaxed. They'd given him the really good stuff. Thank god.

"Bones. Finally!" Jim Kirk rushed up, enfolding his right hand. "When we found out what had happened, I thought I had lost you," he added more quietly, massaging his fingers in an almost painful grip.

"Not that easy," McCoy murmured.

"If you had died - I'm damn sorry I sent you out."

"It was just a shuttle trip, and necessary to boot." McCoy tried to smile, unwilling to let his man get drowned in any more useless self-accusation. "Hope my landing counted."

"Well, crashing isn't strictly regulations, but Sulu said you've worked wonders with the manual controls, so I'll make sure it counts." Jim sighed as he saw Chapel approaching.

"You better let him rest now, and get some rest yourself, captain," she said crisply.

"I'll be gone in a minute," Jim said. When she was gone, he bent forward and whispered in McCoy's ear, "Love you, Bones".

"Love you too," McCoy replied softly. "Sorry for scaring you."

"Yeah." Jim nodded, his characteristic grin reappearing at last. "I'll be back later. Don't run away."

"Won't. I'm not you."

Jim tugged his hand a last time, then he was gone. Chapel returned and fussed around with the med bed and the monitors.

"What about Spock?" McCoy asked.

"You have correctly diagnosed brain damage with the medical unit after your crash landing, but his brain seemed to have repaired itself over time. We've found only small traces of the original damage. He was released to his quarters two hours after your arrival and hasn't reported any side effects so far."

McCoy was surprised about the amount of hate that quickly surged through him, but then bottled it away. Self-healing was a lot better than having any of his staff doing surgery on the Vulcan, seeing as McCoy would have been the only one really qualified for that job and he was knocked out at that time. And it's not as if he wanted Spock to die in surgery, did he?

Maybe the idea of hiding what had happened wasn't as clever as he had originally thought. However, the idea of speaking about it and dealing with the fallout - the official investigation, Jim's guilt and emotional turmoil, the sympathetic words and pitying gazes of the crew once the usual mix of truths and assumptions circulated in the ship's rumor mill - was even worse. No way he wanted to deal with that. It might even be the end of Jim's command if the headquarters thought the officers of the Enterprise weren't able to deal with each other. They were still in the first year of their planned five year mission, and closely monitored for failure by many in the admiralty. A scandal like this would be a great pleasure to some of those asses, and McCoy had every intention of fucking them over by performing as formidable as he could, as officer and as Jim's friend.

He sighed and frowned as he noticed Chapel's stare.

"Everything alright?" she asked.

"Aside from being laid up in bed, everything's fine," he muttered. "Want to go to my quarters as soon as possible."

Chapel shook her head. "Now, you know that with all of your injuries, Doctor Moren can't discharge you for at least 24 hours."

"As if he knew anything," McCoy snapped, then regretted his words. Everyone of the newer team members was handpicked by him, so if anyone screwed up, it was his own fault. "Sorry," he mumbled.

"It's really a miracle nobody broke your nose during the academy years, if that's how you always behave," Chapel stated sharply, and damn if it didn't feel like being slapped in his face. He was at loss for words because she was more right than she could know, and it hurt like hell. Swallowing hard he watched her leave, kneading his fingers in thoughts.

*

McCoy was stuck in med bay for another day for some more mending and a tooth job, visited by several people though not by Spock (which he was thankful for), then he was released to his quarters. They were empty for now, but Jim had already announced that the kitchen was willing to prepare any southern specials that Bones would like to have so he'll see him later for dinner. McCoy wasn't hungry at all, but he embraced the sentiment of the offer and chose a small steak with baked beans. It was almost the end of the alpha shift, and with Jim tending to go longer and then having a shower in his own quarters, he'd probably have to wait for another hour, but he didn't mind. He removed his shoes and his uniform shirt and sank down on the bed, relaxing in his private surroundings, taking in its familiar smell, of himself and of Jim.

When the door bell rang, he barely noticed at first; then he ordered the computer to open the door more from habit than serious consideration. He rose from the bed in shock as his unexpected visitor turned out to be Spock, who stepped into the room until the door slid close behind him.

"What do you want?" he said, his body tensing, and wished he'd manage to deliver the words in his usual sarcasm, but there was too much insecurity - and fear, dammit - in them.

"I - we need to speak," Spock said.

"Don't know why we should."

Spock looked at him, emotionless - 'no, strike that, rather emotional' - eyes sweeping up and down and coming to rest on his face again. "I am pleased that no lasting damage has occurred."

"Well, no thanks to you," McCoy said sharply, feeling overly exposed with his bare feet and his tight black regulation t-shirt. "Spock - just get out, okay? Now."

"I deeply regret everything that you had to suffer under the actions mitigated from my brain damage," Spock said as if he hadn't heard McCoy's words at all. "I wanted to express my gratitude for your professional aid. But I do not condone the offer you forced me to accept."

"What do you want to do, tell them all?" McCoy laughed roughly. "Imaging how they'd react, Jim and Nyota and all the people who know us. How everything we've got here would fall apart over it." He'd hit a note, he could see it in Spock's features. Nyota was the best thing left to Spock besides his father. She was his human connection, the one person that would hold him in the night - and McCoy was pretty sure some of Spock's nights were rather long, meditation or not. Losing Nyota was as unthinkable to Spock as losing Jim was to McCoy.

"It is unethical to lie over such an important event," Spock said and drew closer.

"Stay away," McCoy snapped, feeling the sweat breaking in his neck.

"Besides, you cannot control your emotions regarding me," Spock added and stopped a mere inch away from McCoy's face.

"You wanna threaten me?" McCoy pressed out, fighting both his panic and the strong reflex to push his fist into Spock's face. "Fine. Go and tell. But there's no evidence left, and I won't testify your words."

Spock took a deep breath, then suddenly made a step back and lowered his head. "I apologize. The events have not left me unscathed. I agree that your decision was logical and I accept it in gratitude. However, I find we are both troubled by the events and I wish to ensure your future well-being. I want to make amends."

"Well, get that therapy, though preferably not on this ship," McCoy muttered. "And now get out."

Of course this had to be the moment in which Jim appeared, stopping right in the door as he saw the two of them standing so close together. Then he walked into the room and maneuvered the large tray in his hands down on the table.

"Hey, Spock," Jim said. "Haven't seen you in a while."

"Taking the gamma shift for now has doubled the time I am able to spend on science experiments," Spock stated. "I will leave you to your meal. Doctor, captain," he said and left.

McCoy drew a deep breath, gnawing his lower lip.

"Everything alright, Bones?" Jim eyed him, brows drawn together in thought. "First he's acting strange, now you. Anything I should know?"

"No, everything's fine," McCoy lied. And when they were huddled in bed together later, too exhausted for anything sexual, he still managed to pretend he was fine.

*

'Fine' ended the first time Jim wanted to fuck him, which was three days later. McCoy managed to divert him and turn the table to be the active one, but it was a tough job considering that his dick tried everything possible not to get hard. When he was finally buried deep inside his lover's body, staring down on the naked back, lacing one hand into Jim's hair, he was close to puking. He went through the act on automatic, years of knowing the body beneath him coming to his rescue. When he shot off at last, he felt so sick that he roughly pulled out of Jim and ran for the bathroom, where the evening meal found a sad end in the toilet bowl.

"Gotta be a side effect of the medication," he told Jim when he returned to the bedroom, subjected to Jim's concerned but also inquiring gaze.

He managed to avoid further sexual activity - which basically meant contact to Jim - for the following days, claiming health problems and his duties.

*

"Captain, may I have a word with you in private?" Jim looked up from his PADD, not really surprised that Uhura asked him for a conversation. Considering how strangely Bones behaved since that shuttle crash, it was logical that Spock and Uhura might foster a similar problem.

"Sure," he said, ignoring the curious gazes from the other bridge members. "Meeting room one." Ten minutes later, they sat on opposite sides of the table, both folding their hands in front of them on the table top.

"Captain -" Uhura started, looking a little flustered.

"If this is going to be a private talk, I insist you call me Jim," Kirk said.

"Fine. You know my name by now." She nodded sharply, her tail whipping. "I'd never talk with you about this if I wasn't seriously concerned. Spock - he's not the same since the crash. He's avoiding me, changed his shift, drowning himself in work. Something has happened and he won't speak about it. I went to Doctor McCoy, but he dismissed me, told me that everything should be fine, that it would probably be some small after-effect of Spock's injury and that it should be gone in a few days." She sighed. "I would like to believe him but a few hours later I saw them standing in the corridor, rather close together, and whispering agitatedly. I don't know what to think."

Jim rubbed his thumb over his jaw line. "And now you're here to ask me about Bones?"

"Yes. I never really wanted to know how far your relationship goes. But now - " She held his probing gaze.

"He's my man, ever since our first year at the academy," he said matter-of-factly.

She nodded.

"And he's acting strange too, actively avoiding me. And he stopped cursing."

"What?" Uhura raised her brows in confusion.

"He stopped cussing around so much. He's polite to everyone."

"That's something to be concerned about?"

"When he's fine, he's loud and sarcastic and bitching a lot. It's when he's going all quiet and professional that he's really troubled."

"I see," Uhura said. They sat in silence for a moment before she began, "Do you think they -"

"Have something going on?" Jim brushed through his hair. "Not on the planet, I guess. They crashed and were badly injured. Not a good moment to fuck around."

"Maybe it was just a catalyst. One of those 'I'm going to die and suddenly realize what I want' moments," Uhura said, fingers clutched.

"I don't know. On the day when Bones was released to his quarters, I interrupted them. They were standing rather close to each other but from the vibes it wasn't a love scene. It looked more like a fight."

"Why should they -"

"I don't know. In any case, something happened about which they don't want to speak to us."

"But what could it be that they think it we wouldn't be able to deal with it?" Uhura asked. "Besides, well - the two of them having an affair."

"They might want to protect us from something. Only thing we can do is find out what's the problem and corner them about it." Jim stated with a frown.

Now it was Uhura's turn to rub her face. He could see some fine lines under her eyes where in the years to come, troubles would etch themselves into her features, and he wanted to ease her concern. He went up and stepped to her side, cradling her shoulder. "We'll find out, Nyota," he said gently.

For a moment she leaned against him, then she went up, straightening her uniform. "Thank you, captain," she said, changing the atmosphere back from friendly to professional. "I'll return to the bridge." He withdrew his lingering hand and nodded curtly. "Dismissed," he said, although she hadn't asked for permission to leave and never would.

He watched her go, a little sad that they'd probably never be true friends, due to their rocky past and their loyalties. Then he sat down again to massage his forehead and think.

*

They tried, really, but neither Uhura nor him found out what might have happened. The day after their meeting, Bones was back, eating, smiling and having sex with him as if nothing had ever been different in between. And Jim was willing to believe that it had only been a medical aftermath - at least until he saw Bones shooting himself with a hypo in the bathroom before coming to bed.

It definitely didn't speak of trust on Jim's side to pick up that hypo on the next morning, but when he had it, he realized that he couldn't use it as evidence. Bones' staff knew the hypo and was too damn loyal to just follow his order and tell him what Bones was shooting himself with. Even if Chapel would kick McCoy's ass in privacy, she wouldn't tell him unless it was something compromising the CMO position, and Jim really hoped that wasn't the case. Aside from the thought what the med bay team would think about the relationship between the captain and the chief medical officer, or the fucked-up-ness thereof. Frustrated, he hid the hypo deep in a drawer and went to the bridge.

Next night, Bones didn't get it up.

"It's not your fault," Bones muttered as they lay together, Jim limp and spent from a blowjob, Bones not even hard.

Jim turned to face his partner - the man he'd always trusted, from day one - and lost it.

"It's Spock, isn't it?"

"What?" Bones looked shocked.

"You've something going on. Ever since the crash."

Bones sat up. "You think we're fucking around?" he blurted out.

"How should I know?" Jim snapped back angrily. "Since that mission, he's hiding, barely able to look into my eyes when we meet - which is really damn annoying because we're supposed to be the command team of this ship - and you've been hiding until you obviously decided that I'm still worth the trouble. Or didn't he fuck you as good as you thought he'd do?"

For the first time in many years, Jim saw someone whiten in anger. Bones' eyes were blazing, shoulder muscles strung to cords, fists coiled - for a second, Jim thought they'd land in his face. Then, with a cried-out "fuck you", Bones tore away the sheet, rolled out of bed, grabbed his clothes and hurled himself out of the door.

Shit.

*

The story of the CMO running through the corridor naked caused the biggest stirrup in the scuttlebutt of the last months. Until last evening, their relationship had been an open secret which nobody dared to comment on. With this event, however, all gates broke and a swamp of speculations flooded the ship, daring assumptions about how the captain had obviously gone too far, demanding kinky sex practices or having cheated on McCoy. Strangely, nobody seemed to think that it might've been Bones fucking up, which really grated on Jim.

Everyone was gossiping, and it caused an annoying, obvious silence whenever he stepped onto the bridge over the course of the next days. Only Uhura was able to look into his eyes - he just wished there were more understanding, and less pity.

Bones seemed to have decided to spend his life between med bay and his quarters and Jim wouldn't have been surprised if a request for transfer would have found its way into his mail box. However, nothing showed up.

Spock kept hiding in the gamma shift and Jim could almost believe there was nothing between the two men, until he saw them in the bio lab at three o'clock one morning, McCoy sagged on a chair with hands folded in his lap, Spock standing next to him and speaking urgently. Whatever they talked about, they didn't look like happy lovers at all - Bones looked tired and exhausted, with messy hair and shadows under his eyes like in the worst academy days, and Spock was all tense and worked-up, for a Vulcan.

Maybe he should just officially break up with Bones and allow his best friend to move on, Jim wondered. Acutely aware of the sudden sting of tears in his eyes over that thought, he went back to his lonely quarters and buried himself in overdue reports.

*

"Welcome to New Vulcan," the old Spock said and enfolded both his hands in a gentle touch. "I am pleased that the Enterprise was assigned to transport our newest colonists. It is so good to see you, old friend - although you look troubled."

"Good to see you too, Spock," Kirk said, clutching the warm fingers. There was so much he wanted to say, but not here, not in front of his universe's Spock and several other people who stood around, wanting to discuss arrangements with him or simply to meet the youngest captain of Starfleet. He leaned forward. "I am troubled, Spock," he said quietly. "I need your help."

"Is it urgent?" Spock asked, and his gaze told Jim that if he said yes, this Spock would simply lead him away for a private conversation, ignoring all protocols, all other demands on them. A friendship that surpassed time and dimensions. That's what he'd come for, that's what had made him apply for this particular trip, and just hearing Spock's offer already released much of his tension.

Kirk shook his head. "It's important but it can wait till tonight."

Spock nodded, unlacing their hands. "I'll wait for you." The old Vulcan then nodded towards his young version. "Spock."

"Ambassador," Spock said stiffly, raising his fingers in a Vulcan salute.

"I do not see the doctor," the Ambassador said.

"He didn't feel like joining us," Jim replied. They'd met once, Bones and the old Spock, and Bones had been moderately creeped out when Spock had addressed him like a good friend. Much later, Jim found out that Bones was also a little jealous of old Spock. Not the foundation for a good relationship. About the other reason for Bones' behavior, well, he'd speak with Spock tonight.

"Your schedule," his first officer said and pressed a PADD in his hand, staying clear of all physical contact.

"Thanks, commander," Jim said coolly and started tackling the long list of demands.

*

Jim lay reclined on a couch with legs stretched out in front of him, for once lured away from pressing official demands as well as privately rotating thoughts by a wonderful dinner and two glasses of Romulan Ale.

"Did he drink it too?" he asked, playing with the Vulcan glass cup with the long, curved stem. It felt too thin, too fragile for the potent liquid and the possibly soon incapacitated drinker that might hold it. For now he had a tight grip on it, but he could feel the alcohol unwinding him, embracing him like a lover. He slowly rotated the glass, watching the blue fluid climb its wall.

"Indeed, he did," Spock replied. "He was very fond of it. We even had some onboard the Enterprise, always organized by Doctor McCoy."

"My Bones never tried Romulan Ale, although we tested a lot of pretty strange stuff at the academy. He always thought it should be classified as neurotoxin." He emptied the glass and sighed. "My Bones - as if."

"What has happened, Jim?" Sitting opposite to Jim on a chair, straight but focused on the human's face, Spock folded his hands in his lap.

"Wish I knew." Jim sat up and placed the fragile cup away, then fetched his PADD from the nearby table where he had discarded it an hour ago. "Three weeks ago, I sent Spock and Bones on a little shuttle trip, nothing dangerous, just landing on a planet and checking on an exploration team. Bones needed to renew his piloting license and I thought it would be a great idea to have the two of them spent some time together, talking, connecting - you know the deal. It ended with a crash landing in which they got badly injured. But it was after their release from med bay when the trouble really started. They're just not the same as before." He pressed a few buttons then gave the PADD to Spock.

"Their mission reports?" Spock asked.

"Yeah. Not that they're telling a lot, and they definitely don't offer a good explanation as to why Spock can't look into my eyes anymore. And Bones has practically left me after I accused him of fucking around with Spock. "

"Not an accusation the doctor would take lightly."

"You bet. But I really had enough of his strange behavior. Something has happened and they won't tell Uhura and me. And if we don't find it out, I'm going to lose him." He pressed his curled fingers against his lips, because just saying the words made it so much more real.

"You're my last hope. Talk to them. Keep it private or whatever, I don't need to know everything, but I need to find a way to help Bones. He's suffering, we're all suffering and it's breaking us, destroying the team we need to be for this long mission. And if stepping back and letting him come together with our Spock improves the situation, then be it so. But this problem, whatever it is needs to get solved."

Spock nodded. "I will endeavor to help you, Jim."

"I know. That's why I came here." Jim looked at him. "You really loved him, didn't you? The other me?"

"Yes," Spock replied solemnly.

'Have you been together?' Jim was about to ask, not for the first time, but then thought better of it again. He was eternally curious, but wasn't sure if he could or wanted to handle all the implications of that knowledge. He wouldn't be able to replace the man this Spock was missing, and the more he knew about them, the guiltier he felt about this fact.

"I need to leave," He unceremoniously scrambled to his feet. "Spock's down here for the next three days. You should be able to catch up with him."

"Yes," Spock said, and Jim looked away from the flicker of sadness he could see in the old man's face. So many stories to share about the Enterprise and their adventures, together, and he was running away from it.

"Thanks for the great evening. I'm looking forward to your call." Jim Kirk straightened his uniform, taking a deep breath to bring on the captain persona.

Spock went up from his seat and sadness changed to tenderness as the Vulcan bid him good night.

As Jim walked out of the door, a part of him really wished he could be the man this Spock needed. But he could only ever be the younger rip-off - who loved Bones.

*

The reasons, Spock thought over another glass of ale while reading the report, why this Jim Kirk had missed the obvious explanation to the behavior of his friends were possibly two: First, he had barely finished the academy and therefore not yet acquired the experience to read between the lines of official records, to put his fingers on the written - or the missing - words in them. Second, he had not yet the long-time experience to deal with Spock and McCoy, who were both very private men willing to deal with any averse experience on their own. Especially when it came to situations between them.

The Ambassador sighed softly, gazing unfocusedly into the room. In fact, not even his Jim had known about some of their clashes; how Spock had behaved on Sarpeidon, for instance. McCoy had never reported how the Vulcan had threatened and strangled him in rage, but instead had blamed it on his own antagonistic behavior and the fact that Spock had been ill from a medical point of view, and therefore hadn't been responsible for his actions. They had returned to the Enterprise and never spoken of it again. Or the mind meld, not performed by him but the mirror persona, who had forced himself on McCoy's mind and caused side-effects for months until Spock found out the reason…

Yes, McCoy and he - in any timeline - were the men to downplay and ignore anything that might possibly hurt them or the people they cared for, glossing over it with sharp words and cold logic. But it always remained with them, shaping who they were and how they reacted. And in this timeline, they were not yet as accomplished in their task of hiding such serious events, especially as they had partners that would not simply let the subject rest.

Although he understood the problem, Spock did not know the best solution for the situation at hand. Considering that the doctor of this timeline was not a friend of his, and unlikely to talk to him about the events and even less inclined to assent to a mind meld, his younger self should be the more approachable of the two men. But meeting him was always strangely confusing, as if he stared into a distorted, time-shifted mirror, never really sure how the other image would react. They were one and yet, they were so very different. He wanted to trust his younger self but there was an edge to this trust, coming from the fact that he could not really accept any Spock who was distant and averse to any Jim Kirk, something he had realized lately. He found the young half-Vulcan to be very different in personality, identical only on the level of their genes. Not a brother, merely a distant cousin, and he was positive the young man had a similar opinion. Which would not make the task easier.

"Wish you were here, Jim," he whispered into the room, pushing away the illogical desire that the young captain had stayed.

When Spock did not join his Vulcan colleagues in the morning meeting, a young assistant was sent to retrieve him. He found him slumped over in the chair, a PADD at his side and a glass shattered on the floor where it had fallen off his hands, and instantly called the medical emergency team.

*

McCoy hadn't wanted to have anything to do with this Vulcan colony and especially not with young or old Spock. So instead of beaming down himself to offer medical help as he'd usually do, he'd sent most of his staff and stayed on the Enterprise.

The plan had been thoroughly fucked, though, by the presence of Ambassador Spock laying supine on a med bed in front of him.

"What's the matter, Bones?" a concerned Jim Kirk asked at his side.

"Heart attack. And it's not been his first, I'd say."

Jim stared down on the bed as if he was losing his best friend, and Bones briefly looked away, not able to deal with the nearness of the captain and that look. "Will he make it?" the captain asked, and Bones nodded. "Yes. I'll need to operate though, and we don't have enough blood resources of Vulcan T-negative."

"The colonists?"

"The blood type is extremely rare, and Sarek, who'd have it, is off-planet at the moment. Plus the Ambassador's got human factors in it which might interact aversely with a full Vulcan's blood."

"Spock?"

"Yes. I've already asked him. He's willing to do it, but there's a risk left, as we need to give him an experimental drug to increase blood production in his body. In the worst case, we might lose them both. I'm not sure if we should do it."

Jim eyed him, and it made Bones nervous. Their faces were so close - they hadn't been so close ever since their clash. A clash of which Bones by now thought he'd totally overreacted, but he didn't know how to fix the tear between them, and Jim hadn't even tried to talk to him. It looked as if Jim had made up his mind and was done with the relationship, and Bones started to accept it. It made him feel depressed and teary though, and he fiddled with the controls.

"If you don't operate - what will happen?"

"He'll probably die."

"How probable?"

With a frown, Bones looked back at Jim, encountering the focused, blue eyes. "I'm not your living computer, and this isn't about hard numbers."

"Your best guess, Bones," Jim demanded.

"Alright. My best guess he's got an 80% chance of dying within the next twenty-four hours, and if he makes it, another 60% chance of dying within the next months."

"And what's the risk for our Spock?"

Bones shrugged a little helplessly. "Hard to say. He's healthy and young but experimental drugs are always a little risky. Don't suppose it'll kill him, but it could damage his kidneys or brain. We don't know."

Jim hung his head and muttered under his breath, "Damn." Then he straightened, drawing back his shoulder.

"If Spock agrees, you'll operate."

"That's an order?"

"Yes." There was a steely glint in Jim's eyes. "The Ambassador matters a lot to me, and I'm pretty sure he also matters a lot to our Spock."

Bones nodded. "If we operate, I'll need Chapel and Burke. They're still on the surface."

"They'll be up in time." Jim promised. There was suddenly a crooked smile on his face, and Bones couldn't help asking, "What's so funny about it?"

"I'm glad it happened here and now," Jim said, "because Spock's here for the right blood type and you're the best damn doctor in the universe and if this had happened in a week, he would have died and I'd have eternally hated to know we could've saved him."

"He still might die," Bones said.

"You won't let him," Jim said, and touched the wrinkled fingers of the sedated Vulcan.

Bones shook his head but didn't know what to say. He turned and walked to his office to plan the surgery with a 3D visualization of the Ambassador's body, and next time he got out and looked after the patient, Jim was gone.

*

There were two Vulcans under his fingers now, two Spocks, and it was the worst possible timing. He hadn't trusted himself with Spock's healthcare over the last weeks, once he'd realized how much bottled-up emotions he was still harboring. And the three times Spock had managed to corner him hadn't really improved the situation. The Vulcan had offered meditation, a mind meld, and recreational sex - for god's sake, someone should forbid bridge officers to play psychiatrists. Each time, McCoy had retorted in no uncertain terms what he thought of these offers, but it had seemed Spock just couldn't let it rest when all he wanted was to pull a cloak of silence over it.

'Damn kind of silence that costs you another relationship, Leonard,' something chirped up in the back of his head.

"Doctor, we're ready," Chapel said, and he forced himself back on the task in front of him. Soon the two Vulcans turned into simple bodies, biological organisms with a familiar territory of tissue and muscles and sinews and vasculature - for once something he could handle.

*

The chair was hard and reminded McCoy of the fact that they were this hard on purpose so that the medical personnel wouldn't do what he did right now, sitting vigil next to patients. These were modern times, and they had a bazillion of monitors tracking every bit of information on a patient, and for each data type, alert thresholds could be defined at which medical personnel would get notified. But while there was no real need for McCoy to sit at the end of two beds, arms folded and his gaze wandering between the freshly operated Ambassador and its blood donor, he needed to see them with his own eyes.

Everything had gone so surprisingly well, even his own medical staff had congratulated him on his work. The life signs looked good, and he expected them to wake up within the next hour. After that, he would leave them to his nurses, but for now, seeing their regular lifting of chests had something soothing. Jim had been here a while ago, sitting with him for an hour before he left with a promise to return before his shift. They had sat in silence for the full damn hour, and Bones was tired of the situation. He hadn't transferred so far, but maybe he should. Even if Jim still seemed to think he was the best doctor; if they couldn't interact sensibly any longer, it was time to move on, he thought gloomily. At least he didn't hit the bottle this time around, compared to his divorce, and he still had his career in Starfleet.

He startled as he caught the movement from the bed, and went up to clasp an outreached hand. Contrary to his assumption, the Ambassador was waking up as first, his gaze still somewhat clouded. "Leonard," the Vulcan whispered and tightened the grip on his hand.

"Let me get your something to drink," McCoy murmured and pulled away to reach for the bottle. He put its thin neck into Spock's mouth and turned the bottle's body so that the liquid could flow. When Spock motioned 'enough', he stopped and took it away. The Vulcan reached out again, and McCoy automatically took his hand, like he would have done for any patient.

Only, this wasn't just any patient.

"You are in pain, Leonard," Spock said, the voice incredibly deep and gentle. "And I know the reason for this."

McCoy froze. "What? How?" He jerked away his hand. "You're reading my mind, dammit!"

"I do not need to read your mind to know what has happened after the crash landing," the old Vulcan said calmly.

"I don't know what you're talking about," McCoy tried to snap, but it sounded weak even in his own ears.

"The evening before this -" Spock motioned towards his chest. "Jim Kirk asked me to dine with him. He asked for my help and told me how you had changed after that event. He gave me the mission reports in the hope to find the reason for this change."

"Damn," McCoy whispered. "So you think you know everything just from reading those reports?" He uttered a strangled laughter that hurt his throat. "As if they include anything really important."

"Your Spock suffered from an electrical shock that temporarily disabled the functions of his amygdala. He lost all control and acted on his basic, impulsive emotions only. As it had never been your choice to fly with him, you probably displayed your typical antagonistic behavior which he is able to deal with under normal circumstances, but not with this brain damage. I assume that most of your injuries were not caused by the initial crash landing but by an assault, which you both wanted to cover up to protect your partners and your friendships from the possible consequences."

McCoy stared at him in disbelief. "And you got all that just from the report?"

Spock's gaze drifted away from him. "Even with the changed timeline, many things have remained unchanged. And it is one constant of our characters that we will not speak about certain things but will deal with them in our own, private ways. My Jim Kirk never noticed how we would barely speak to each other for two weeks after I strangled you on an away mission, because he was not romantically involved with any of us at that time. My loss of control then had also biological reasons, and you tried to ease my guilt even then. But it is also true that we often challenged each other, and there had been consequences of such moments which we never spoke about. "

McCoy sagged down to sit on the bed next to Spock. "Yeah, I know I can be a bastard and I like to needle him more than it's good for me. God knows he'd enough reason to be angry at me, after having to endure flying with me for hours! When I diagnosed the brain damage, I realized that he might be disoriented but I never thought for a second that he'd actually hurt me. He was so fast - so strong. I've never felt that helpless."

"He is younger than I was when that similar event took place in my timeline, and the loss of control was more extensive in this case." Spock clasped his hand. "You had no chance against his strength and he had no control over his emotions."

"I know, lord, do I know," McCoy rasped, "that's why nothing of this can get to Jim or Nyota, because they'd give him hell for what he did, no matter the reason. They'd think that he just can't control himself in the end, that he can't be trusted. Jim's fine with his own fights, but once it's me being hurt, he's different. Thinks he can protect me forever, although he should know better. I don't want him to walk on eggshells around me. And I don't want to be seen as simply a victim, when I know my being an ass is what ticked Spock off in the first place."

"But you are in pain, and this pain makes you withdraw from Jim."

"Yes. Dammit." McCoy buried his face in his hand. "I just couldn't handle that he thought me and Spock were having sex behind his back. That's about the last thing on my mind, except in those nightmares that I can't control. Haven't had a good night's sleep ever since."

"Let me help you," Spock said gently, and lifted one hand.

McCoy stared at it, knowing what Spock offered. "I don't think I can do that -" he whispered.

"Did he meld with you?" Spock asked, sudden concern reflecting in his voice.

McCoy shook his head. "No. Nobody ever did. But from what Jim told me it's rather rough on a human."

"At that time, I was emotionally compromised and not as controlled as I would have liked to be."

"But you think you are now?" McCoy pointedly looked at the med bed.

"Yes."

Damn those Vulcans who woke up from major surgery and were fit as a fiddle.

"What about our Spock?" McCoy asked. "He's hurting too, and I don't feel he's much better at dealing with it than I am."

"Indeed, I must say that the memories of this event are most disturbing," a younger voice said and McCoy whipped around with a frown.

"Listened to all of this, didn't you?" he said annoyed. Bad enough he was pouring his heart out to one Spock - he really didn't want to make the other one think he was just an over-emotional fool.

"None of it was new to me, doctor," the younger Spock said coolly.

The old Vulcan soothingly stroked McCoy's hand. "I knew he was awake, and I considered this to be an acceptable situation. Both of you have been hurt in this event, and I can be of help to both of you - if you allow me to."

"A three-way-meld, with a human involved?" Younger Spock asked critically.

"Sounds scary," McCoy murmured. After his heart he definitely didn't want to pour his brain out next, thank you very much.

"I have undertaken such melds quite often," the old Spock said, and McCoy could see the other Spock's brow rise in surprise.

"Doctor," the old Vulcan said, shifting his intensive gaze to him - "do you want to go on like in the last weeks, troubled and in pain, hiding behind work? Jim's greatest fear is to lose you and he does not know how to prevent it. Let me help you to restore your peace of mind so that you can live in harmony again, as it should be."

"And you," the man looked at his younger version -"do you not want to return to a state in which the woman at your side trusts you again?"

This timeline's Spock averted the gaze, and then nodded once, sharply. "It is my wish that the emotional disturbance caused by my action does no longer impede my private and working relationships." He wanted to get up when McCoy stopped him. "Both of you stay down. You're not going to walk around here when you just came out of surgery."

"We do need to get seated in a circle," the young man said smoothly. "This cannot be done lying in bed."

"Then it's got to wait," McCoy said heatedly.

"I am fully restored, doctor, and it is illogical -"

"Please, my friends," the old Vulcan interrupted them. "This is not the time to fight." McCoy stopped, annoyed that he was falling back into the habits that had gotten him into this shit in the first place. "You may take chairs and sit down left and right of me so that I can touch you both. This will be easy and should be without ill consequences for my young relative."

McCoy was unconvinced, but he also realized that if they didn't do it right now, he might chicken out - or worse, old Spock might have a relapse or another heart attack and just die, leaving them with this unsolved mess. He knew this was a rather egoistic thought as Spock might have the relapse exactly because of the meld, but he'd given up too much of himself over the last weeks and was overdue for some egoism. Jim and he were still young, they had the chance to build a life together and he badly wanted to give them this chance. He missed Jim as if someone had amputated a limb the night he'd ran away, and if the situation made it necessary that someone poked into his brain and repaired some loose screws, then so be it.

He dragged the chairs to the bed and they all took their places, the older Spock's bed raised up at the head so that Spock could sit more comfortably. As he stretched out his hands, young Spock bent forward and offered his face to probing fingers. McCoy followed the lead and mirrored the movement - and then suddenly, they connected.

*

It was early morning when Jim Kirk went to med bay to inquire about the current status of the patients - and Bones, if he was honest - he was surprised to see the patient area empty except for the Ambassador. The old Vulcan looked at him as he stepped next to the bed, the man's gaze alert and with a light twinkle.

"Do not be concerned. Your Spock has been released to his quarters for the day, and the doctor has gone to bed after staying awake for thirty point five hours."

"I'm glad you survived," Jim said. "I've got to say you've become rather important to me - old friend."

Something shimmered in the Vulcan's eyes, "It is an honor to be called your friend, in any universe," he answered, his voice as agitated as in the cave when they'd first met. "And you might want to know that I solved the problem for which you had asked for help."

Jim's eyes widened. "Damn, that was quick." He sat down on the edge of the bed, hands curled to loose fists to stop their shaking, so tense he was suddenly. "Tell me," he said. "Please."

"They have been assaulted by an uncontrolled, brutal life form which they encountered after the crash."

"Assaulted?" Jim asked blankly. "There was nothing in the reports about such a life form on the planet."

"Trust me, it was there," Spock said. "It assaulted them and left them both injured. They decided to hide this from their partners because of the implications of making the facts known, forcing you to deal with the knowledge, the investigation, the rumors -"

"Assaulted," Jim repeated, realizing what this probably - obviously, god, he'd been such a blind idiot - included. "Why didn't he tell me? We could've dealt with it. We would have!"

"We all try to protect the ones we love, Jim," Spock said gently. "They failed, and they acknowledge this. Do not be too hard on them - and yourself."

Jim swallowed. Damn mind-reading Vulcan, he thought and pushed his own guilt aside, about everything from having forced Bones to fly with Spock in the first place up to accusing Bones of fucking with Spock. "What now?" he asked.

"I have spoken to both, and could heal most of the inflicted wounds. However, some of them are self-inflicted and only their partners will be able to heal those, through understanding and forgiveness." There was a ghost of a smile lingering at the edge of the Vulcan's lips. "Doctor McCoy is for you waiting in his quarters. You will find him most contrite."

"Spock -" Jim was at loss for words; there was so much he wanted to say, so much he wanted to thank for, but it would've felt like a litany of trivialities compared to how this man had just rescued him from making a terrible error. He choked when thinking about the possible result.

"Bones is the most important person in my life. I can't even imagine being without him."

Reaching over, Spock clasped his hands and held them for a moment, warm, supportive and knowing. "In my time, he was always at your side. It was my pleasure to ensure that it will not be different in this universe. Go to him."

"I will." Jim smiled. "Any plans for your discharge?"

"I suppose it will be tomorrow." Spock let Jim's hands go and sank back into the cushions. "I must admit - in old times, I would have used the absence of the doctor to escape from this place. However, I find that I am tired indeed and I cannot think of a more comfortable place to rest than on a bed on the Enterprise."

Jim swallowed hard. "I understand." He didn't want to really think about it, but this Spock was old and wouldn't live forever, Bones being around or not. Of course, there were worse things than dying in bed after a long, interesting life, but he hoped that he wouldn't lose this unusual man to death anytime soon. "Maybe the five of us can have dinner together before we leave in two days."

"An agreeable suggestion, Jim. I am sure we will see each other later," Spock said, then closed his eyes.

Jim quietly left med bay, well, as quiet as you could be when running.

*

"Bones!"

McCoy hadn't wanted to fall asleep, really not, but he'd been exhausted from the long day in surgery, the waiting, then all the talking to Spock, and his brain still felt like it was mangled in a totally indefinable way. So when Jim Kirk came bursting through the door, he winced up in brief shock.

"Damn, Bones, you could've told me," the captain said and heavily sat down on the bed next to him. Bones squinted at the light in his quarters. "Next time, you tell me instead of acting like an ass and letting me jump to all the wrong conclusions," Jim scolded him, but he also caressed his cheek and Bones realized once more just how much he could've lost.

"Promise," he rasped and raised his hand to lace his fingers into Jim's hair. "I'm so damn sorry."

"You better be. And I'm damn sorry too because I really should've been able to understand the signals." Jim placed both his hands on Bones' cheeks. "I won't ask you to tell me all the details," he said softly, "but if I'm doing anything that's reminding you of, well, whatever happened to you, just tell me and I'll stop."

"Thanks, Jim." Bones could feel a blush creeping up his neck. He had accepted that Spock wanted to suggest the nature of the events, to make Jim understand that it had been not a simple ambush, but he prayed that Jim wouldn't start doing anything out of the ordinary to protect him. He was the CMO and danger was his business as much as anyone else's onboard.

"Nothing left to worry about, Jim. The Ambassador helped me to deal with it." The memories were still there, but they were without sting, as if he'd only read about in a book, and he could leaf through the scenes if he wanted to - but why should he.

His fingers slipped to Jim's neck while his gaze drifted to his lover's lips. "And you were right, he's an interesting guy."

"Anyone who can bring you back to me is top rate, in my books," Jim whispered and grinned. Then he shifted his weight and sank down into a kiss, happily welcome by Bones. It was intense and hot and promising, and ended much too fast, in Bones' opinion.

"Gotta be on the bridge", Jim said in visible frustration. "No first officer to cover my absence from the shift."

"I know. I've put him on medical leave myself." Despite the words, Bones stroked all over Jim's chest and shoulders, unable to keep his hands away.

"Keep doing that and we won't get out of here for the next hour," Jim said, breathing harder.

"I think fifteen minutes would be enough, seeing how wound-up you are," Bones murmured.

"Probably, but I really don't want to restart with a quickie, alright?" He pulled away from the bed. "I want to make it long and good for you. Tonight, here, at 19:30 hours?"

"Yes." Bones looked at Jim, thinking that if he had an ounce of energy left, he'd get up and pin him to the wall and suck his brain out. But truth be told, he was dead tired and would love to get some more sleep before going back to med bay and do another checkup on Spock - 'their old friend Spock,' he called him by now.

"See you later," Jim said, smiling brightly as he straightened out the uniform and combed his fingers through his hair, not that it helped much. "Love you, Bones."

"Love you too, Jim," Bones said and watched his man walked out into the corridor, getting back to the bridge. Soon they'd be a functioning command team again, probably much better than before now that young Spock and he had, well, connected. There hadn't been much leaking between the two parallel melds, just enough to make them understand each other better, and some memories laced within, from another timeline, of three friends who would only be parted by death.

Maybe they'd have something in this universe too in the future, Bones thought sleepily. And on second thought, he realized that they may already have it.


End file.
